


Lovely Creature

by Massgrav



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: 1st Person Narrative, First contacts, Journaling, M/M, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24705064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Massgrav/pseuds/Massgrav
Summary: 'I am certain of little concerning this evening, yet I am convinced of one thing : my J— was lovely, and I seemed unable to restrain myself from letting him know so.'—It all starts somewhere.
Relationships: Jowan/Uldred (Dragon Age)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5





	Lovely Creature

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ringofdoubt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ringofdoubt/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Blind Eye](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23672986) by [ringofdoubt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ringofdoubt/pseuds/ringofdoubt). 



> Full credit goes to Ringofdoubt, whose amazing fic "A Blind Eye" inspired me to write this one. What do you want, self-control is such an overrated concept... Hope you enjoy it ! ♥

I can but barely recollect the events that preceeded the unexpected turn of last night with exactitude.   
The party had been carrying on for a couple hours and, as it were customary, minds began to be lost and cheerfulness – though undoubtedly originating from sorrow morphed into a desperate urge to be _happy_ – arose in the liquor-stenched air on my sanctuary. How blasphemous of me to speak of it in such terms, when well more than half of my guests were seemingly determined to substitute their blood to the last drop with alcohol.   
I did not drink much, just as I always do. To keep my mind to a certain degree of clarity is a requirement at all times. How else would I be capable of noticing these tiny, tell-tale tokens of treachery, that boldly occur just beneath my eyes ? I cannot allow wine to blur my sight and thinking.

Last night, however, my sight was directed to a single entity, and my thinking turned tongueless. I am now used to have him around, and see him roaming about freely. His presence was no novelty to my eyes, as indeed, he has been under my supervision for little less than a year by now. I am accustomed to his rather poor conversational skills with complete strangers, growing into loose-tongued exchanges as the key to making him speak is found. I usually would wait until he looked my way, and he would understand my reprimand in regards to his carelessness without need of a single word.

It however was not the reason of my scrutinizing him, this time. I looked to and _through_ him, as though some playful spirit had entranced my mind and petrified my eyes upon him. I saw him red-cheeked by wine and slight discomfort, as he were struggling to untangle the words of a well-inebriated ''conversation'' partner. Of course, he would never dare telling him he would rather be _anywhere_ than in the presence, even remote, of a flesh-made manifestation of one's poor handling of their drink. But he is far too polite for such a manner of speech.   
I caught myself smiling idly at him and this situation – _to_ him, to put it truthfully – and, though it took him a little while to understand my expression bore no reprimand of any sort, he smiled back – though with heavy-lidded eyes ; tokens of both tiredness and tipsiness. Yet there was no undertone of embarassment in the curving of his reddened lips, or in the slight flush of his face.

I am certain of little concerning this evening, yet I am convinced of one thing : my J— was lovely, and I seemed unable to restrain myself from letting him know so.

From here forward, I recall the events with divine vividness. How grateful am I for this clarity, this exactitude ! I however trust my own mind even less than anyone else's ; hence my writing down of that moment with as much precision as I can manage. I do not feel unfamiliar in the least with such emotions, but– oh, to the Void with striving to justify myself to none but _me_. I should remember I keep this journal locked, sealed, and hidden away.   
It is indeed difficult, for I am but neophyte to the experience of such feelings. Occasionally have I been close to someone else's flesh, and yet not once did such intense waves of emotion washed me through. Now, I even come to regret not having drank a little more. I could at least have been enabled to blame it partly on the wine, but it seems I am the only guilty part for my – _our_ – deeds.

I waited a little until the most part of my guests scattered away and retired to their rooms, to finally decide to go to him. It appears I was already feeling odd, upon that moment. Why did I feel the _need_ , the obligation to wait ? J— is my apprentice, my assistant. Proximity, if not expected, is commonplace between a mentor and a pupil. Yet these pathetical attempts at steeling myself only ignited in me the wish to turn back and bash those thoughts out of my head with the help of a wall. I ceased thinking.

He looked up to me with glazed-over eyes. His slightly dishevelled seeming gave away his nervous habit to rearrange his hair, and toy with his collar, and wring his hands together whenever he felt under pressure. How easy is he to read. How translucent, how utterly devoid of secrecy ; and yet he remains to me an unutterable mystery. His entire person, and the strange effect he has on me is an enigma that I wish to solve, though part of me desires to keep this mysterious side untouched, only to enjoy the thrill of being intrigued even more.

He smiled to me again, certainly spotting my unusual behaviour and my flickering assurance, into which he surprizingly appeared to take no pride. He did not gloat, neither in his looks nor in his words for having achieved unsettling me. Perhaps he had not noticed anything, and part of me still hopes it were the case. Did he know ? Did he see the influence his mere presence had on me, on that precise moment ? I thought myself under some habilely-cast spell, perhaps even of his own making.

He rapidly glanced around, as to make certain he had not omitted any detail of menacing or unusual nature. _What's wrong ?_ He then asked me in a hushed voice, slight distress crippling the gentleness of his tone. I shook my head as to try and reassure him, telling him all was well, and that there was nothing to be worried about.

What a fool, what a liar you make, self-deceiving Uldred. I was preoccupied with far too many questionments, no matter how futile they were. Had they not, after all, lead me to go to him and capture the thousand little stars in his fair eyes ? I invented an excuse, that later on proved to indeed be what I needed.

_I_ _'d like to be with you in private. Would you care to accompany me ?_

It were neither a request nor an order and, judging by the flutter of his eyelids, he was bewildered by such a soft tone from me. He opened his mouth as to speak but seemed to decide against it, and merely nodded before emptying his glass in one mouthful. He put it down a little too abruptly for it to be mere carelessness.   
My concern now was for my suggestion to indeed sound _suggestive,_ in a way which the sheer thought puts me off. Of all the immoral behaviours I have been insulted with, _this_ very one is but the most preposterous ; and here I was, implying it not-so-implicitly by my poor choice of words.   
However, and thankfully, J—'s upsetness did not seem to be related to this. He appeared self-blaming, guilty ; perhaps did he redoubt this unusual demeanour of mine to be concealing but cold, murderous anger, patiently waiting to crush him to dust.

But he followed me nonetheless. He came by my side and walked with me as we slipped from every eye in the now diminished crowd, and made our way to one of the numerous secret walls. We climbed the stairs leading up to my quarters, using the passage's narrowness and darkness as an excuse for proximity. J— held my arm for fear of tripping, and I ensured him from it by holding him loosely, though safely by the shoulders. I felt – and _still_ feel – so undecent. But he gleefully thanked me, huddling closer as he were taken by a ''sudden shiver''.

We came to my quarters at last, and as I secured the secret wall sealed, I invited him to sit down. He told me he had always been wondering what my personal space resembled, and I was beyond grateful for his unstoppable tendency to fill even the tiniest moment of silence. Upon telling him I found my _official_ apartments a little dull, he made the clever remark it were only in seeming.   
My quarters may indeed be the blandest place I can ever think of, yet they do possess a few interesting details. Not all Enchanters have a Maker-placed secret passage in their own room, for instance ; though certainly each of us have our own way of hiding our personal collection of bottles.   
J— did not even bother feigning to be surprized when I offered him one last drink, which he accepted wholeheartedly.   
He kept about himself his gentle expression, devoid of any anguish he used to display in the early days of my teaching him. Despite a rather rough start, we indeed have grown closer in the space of these months. I try to avoid looking back, yet facts speak for themselves : his frightfulness was but a natural response to my cruelty. Now, there however seems to be but enjoyable complicity between us – or, there _was_ this notion, as I am afraid it came to an end due to the events that followed.

We drank and we talked – we _chatted_ , without any heaviness in topic or tone, and without any desire for it. We discussed the evening, the guests and those of them who could turn out to be potent allies, as well as those to be avoided at all costs.   
He laughed, and once again I caught myself gazing fondly at him. However, this time, he spotted me and reacted differently. He did not glance away, did not seem any flustered or upset. It were but the two of us, wrapped in the secrecy gifted by Night's velvety veils. And then, before I could even explain it to myself – I kissed him.   
I did so because he was sweet, and lovely, and his laughter chimmed softly in that stolen moment, and his smile beamed as peaking Summer. When we parted, and his eyes were looking into mine, I knew I wanted him. I knew I wanted to clasp this luminous being, even in the selfish, vainest hope of keeping this light prisoner of my barren heart. Upon this moment, it seemed he was everything – the essence of this night, dark and secret, and reflecting the intimate light of stars in his heavenly eyes. To kiss him again was as honey and blood – the sweetest sting, my well-deserved retribution for touching the untouchable – him, his tenderness.   
I never wished to corrupt him. I never sought to steal him. All I desired was to enjoy that night to its end with him by my side, and into my arms, and pressed tightly down upon me as he himself moved to meet me. There was not the shadow of any foul intent from me, nor of any naivety from him. We were together and oblivious to all else, expecting or wishing for naught regarding times to come – dawn, day, eventual talk. The _moment_. All that mattered was the moment.   
  


He still was by my side when this morning came. To behold him was at once distressing and heart-warming ; I knew he were not supposed to be _here_ , and yet I could not think of a vision more pleasant, more touching in the writhing of cruel Dawn. I gazed at him in near pious contemplation, as he breathed so peacefully. Let me be damned, if I happened to wake him from his precious rest ! I moved not. I think I even draw no breath ; it was caught as the evidence seized me – I believed in angels. This lost Spirit of peace was laying just there, by my side, at caress's reach. I cannot convey how I felt through mere words. I should gather blood from my very heart and use it instead of ink, if I truly wished to fittingly put these emotions into the arabesques of letters.

I shall cherish this memory, if it is to mark the ending of any sort of interraction between us. I have not seen him today and, to be quite honest, I have not sought for him. I should let this little bird fly free from my caging influence, though it cannot be without sorrow. This, might be the only emotion I am certain of experiencing as I write these words.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ! Please let me know what you thought, I'm always open to criticism and advice regarding my writing.   
> Much love ! ♥


End file.
